


like the sea, in another life

by awkwardedgeworth



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, AtLA AU, M/M, Reincarnation, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29993898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardedgeworth/pseuds/awkwardedgeworth
Summary: But she is not loved in the way Atsumu loves Kiyoomi.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Original Female Character(s), Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 86





	like the sea, in another life

**Author's Note:**

> cw: being burned, mention of infertility, mention of vomiting, mention of characters dying, scene of a character passing away

They marry on summer solstice at night.

It's meant to be a symbol of friendship between the two nations. Summer solstice for the Fire Nation and night, with the moon half risen in the purple and pink skies for the Water Tribes. The sun and moon coexisting together, bending opposites finding middle ground.

They're both wearing their respective colors. Atsumu is in wedding robes of red and black, his Crown Prince headpiece shining. Kiyoomi is in a thin, dark blue robe that's forgiving in the heat, his swinging, whale bone earrings waving in the breeze.

Their expressions are dull. Their bowed heads aren't lowered for respect of the Fire Sages conducting the ceremony, but of resignation. It's slight, only visible to those who know them well, but eyes can never manage to hide the soul very well.

And if she opens one eye during the kiss, she would see their eyes flicker towards each other for a split second, the moon above.

Sanna smiles at the crowd and laces her hand around Atsumu's.

It's midsummer when Prince Kiyoomi visits, wife in tow. Sanna takes Ayame around town, elbows hooked around each other like they're twelve again as their husbands trail three steps behind. They all ignore the cohort of guards following them from a distance.

She is the Princess of the Fire Nation. She will be the future Fire Lady when the Fire Lord either retires or dies.

Though she'll be one of the most powerful woman when she ascends the throne, she is merely a checkbox under her accomplishments— valedictorian of the Royal Fire Academy for Girls and its accompanying university, a dancer, a master of the pipa, head of various charities around town and a noble.

Most important of all, she bears the bloodline of the previous Fire Avatar.

Atsumu does love her, she thinks, pulling Ayame to the market as merchants respectfully leave them alone to peruse. He visits her aging parents as any good son would, always bringing fruits and gifts. He knows her dislikes and likes, they make a formidable team when court is in session and they could talk for hours over tea and delicate cakes from current matters to which turtle ducks is the cutest.

But she is not loved in the way Atsumu loves Kiyoomi.

How could she ignore it when they all played with each other and grew up in Princess Suzume's turtle duck gardens? She's seen them, even pushed them in a fountain before when they were only a third of their current height— seen the way innocent, childish adoration gave way to something more rooted.

And she could see it now, watching Atsumu and Kiyoomi stand next to each other, commenting on the weather.

She knows of the push and pull, of Tui and La.

Atsumu shifts his weight to one foot. Kiyoomi adjusts.

Kiyoomi looks up and he twists his head left and right, trying to sniff out the smell of a salted, smoked mackerel. Atsumu's eyes follows quickly, slipping a coin to one of his men without breaking for a pause.

The fish comes seconds later. Atsumu hands it over without breaking eye contact, asking him how the trip was, whether the seas were calm.

And they don't realize it at all. It's only when Ayame approaches them holding a fabric sample that both of them realize they're standing in the middle of a busy market square.

Atsumu slides his eyes past Ayame, catching Sanna's eyes across several stalls as Kiyoomi stands next to him, speaking to his wife in quiet tones.

She's reminded of their talk the other night.

" _I can't give you anything; I can never be him_ ," She'd fiddled with her crown, fingering the robes with elaborate designs, the gold thread catching firelight, " _But I can give you my loyalty_."

Sanna knows the only reason why she eeked out Kiyoomi in the Fire Lord's eyes.

He is the heir of the Northern Water Tribe's Chief.

She is no one, a mere daughter not set to inherit a throne one day.

The Fire Sages and royal physician tells her she's carrying a firebender.

It is the height of summer. She's bloated, her ankles are swollen and she almost wants to ask Aya, the palace's only waterbending healer, to bend the baby out.

It's a difficult pregnancy. She'd lost count how many times the Fire Sages flicked blessed water onto her forehead, murmuring rites and wishing for Agni's favor until her robes are heavy with incense.

Atsumu is augmenting the flames in their room again. They rise and lower with each calm breath he pulls. He has her feet in his lap, practicing his speech about allocating funds to their bump. She was unsure at first at his reaction— withholding the news until she started earnestly showing.

But she didn't need to worry; some days, he sings hymns to it.

"They're doing the Happy Dragon Dance."

"It's the _Dancing_ Dragon!" Atsumu huffs, taking another bowl by his side— raisins— and tossing one at her. It's meant to hit her on her forehead but she leans back and catches it, grinning as Atsumu rolls his eyes.

"Happy Dragon."

"Dancing Dragon!"

They are friends first and foremost but he loves Kiyoomi. Loves him in the way he doesn't love her.

This, she can't compete with. Every morning he wakes up earlier than the sun, basking in the fading light of the moon, facing the sea. 

He loves him in all the little and grand ways. Atsumu's palate had always tended towards sour since they were young, favoring pickled fruits grown under the Fire Nation's care. Every time Kiyoomi comes, Atsumu would breath down the chef's necks to make sure their hands don't gravitate towards spices. The rooms given to anyone from the Water Tribes always faced the sea.

And Sanna knows Atsumu can write Northern script better than he can decipher Sun Warrior text. 

He's a son of the sea through and through.

Even though their heir won't have Kiyoomi's dimples or smile, will never be a waterbender, she hopes that he'll grow to love them.

She looks up from his cheekbones, wondering.

How will she ever explain to their child that they can never love? That love in their world means duties and responsibilities first and foremost? That Atsumu will most likely fawn over the Kiyoomi's child more than he pays attention to his heir despite his attempts at being fair?

"Atsumu."

"Am I rubbing too hard?"

Her voice is hard, "Promise me one thing."

He's bare from the waist up, only wearing loose fitting pants, no crowns or armor protecting him. Yet, Sanna knows there are walls of ice surrounded his heart.

Princes cannot make promises easily.

He's cautious, voice tight.

"...I can't promise things that aren't in my control."

"You can with this one, I'm sure," She looks at the way the fire is flickering, throwing shadows around his face. She has no right to let her throat tighten, not when she was born lucky unlike Kiyoomi, but she wants and wants anyway, "When the heir grows older, promise me that you'll let them marry anyone they want."

She feels the baby kick in response. Her hand gravitates towards it automatically.

" _Anyone_."

_Don't let our child suffer the same fate we did. Don't you dare sell them away too, like your grandfather did._

"Of course," He agrees, bending his head in almost a bow, voice tight.

This is what she thinks of days later when the Summit is taking place, Atsumu holding her hand as ministers wearing red, blue, green and yellow run outside the meeting hall, yelling for the royal physician, liquid dripping down her legs as her water breaks.

She watches them through half-closed eyelids.

Kiyoomi and Aya's forearms are red with blood but they're both sweaty and smiling. The water basin nearby is clear red.

Atsumu is rocking the heir in his arms, headpiece off. He's grinning down, standing by the window as the moon guards both of them. There's a burnt ball of cotton pinched between his third and fourth finger. Though children wouldn't develop bending until around eight, all firebending newborns are able to produce sparks from their nose.

The future Fire Lord was born at midnight. Not particularly promising as most firebenders are born when the sun is high above in the sky, but as it is—

It is the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. She is reminded of their wedding night.

"The princess's name, my Lady?" Arai asks her. His cool hands are a welcome relief on her sticky forehead.

She doesn't pay much attention to him, watching the way Atsumu marches to Kiyoomi, both of their heads bending down to look at the bundle of black hair and still-pink baby skin wriggling in her blankets.

For a split second, she stops breathing, a sharp pain in her ribs making itself known. It's pure agony and she's about to cry out before it disappears.

For a split second, she sees them bent over a baby— a daughter as well but not _her_ daughter— with Kiyoomi's curls and Atsumu's eyes, the thought of blue roses springing to mind.

" _Izumi_ ," She whispers, remembering the way Atsumu had asked her for one favor, something only she could do. She is no one after all, only a mere daughter. Arai scribbles this down, "Written in the character meaning 'peace.'"

Her family and extended family bring her gifts. Osamu bakes her a cake. Rin fluffs her pillows and keeps her company as Atsumu runs in between lunch and dinner breaks to court. Princess Suzume soothes Izumi to sleep as Sanna takes a few well deserved naps.

Later when she has recovered and can totter out of bed with little help, she'll hear from an attendant that Ayame, six months pregnant, had gone into early labor in the Northern Water Tribe. Her heart clenches and she immediately asks one of her ladies in waiting to see if Aya or Healer Arai are experienced in early births, wanting to ask if they would be willing to travel to aid a dear friend.

They avoid her eyes. 

It isn't until much later that she finds out that Kiyoomi is already on his way down here, wanting to ask the advice of the shamans who live on Bhanti Island, his too-young son too sickly to be left to his own devices.

She drifts around the room, thinking out loud of which tea houses Ayame would like to visit. Perhaps Osamu would have recommendations?

"Ginseng tea is good for fatigue, we could give them some to take back," She says, pacing, "I'll ask your brother more in the morning what teas are beneficial for a new mother. He made me a brew, do you remember? Oh and have you thought about what to give them for their newborn? A gift is customary."

Atsumu looks sick, withdrawn. He's avoiding her eyes.

After Izumi's resting in her crib next to their bed, she asks if anything's wrong.

He tells her.

When they were all young, close friends of the princes were allowed to enter Princess Suzume's private gardens. Sanna herself had played with the turtle ducks before, naming a few of the ducklings when she sat next to Princess Suzume.

She finds Kiyoomi in a normal garden— without water and ducks, but hedges present to seclude himself in as he stares up at the sky, a figure in royal blue among the greenery. 

She tilts her head up, wondering if he's found Ayame's star.

His rocks his arms automatically. They came back from Bhanti Island with answers and his son looks healthier already, cheeks pink in his silk wrap.

She clears her throat.

Kiyoomi whips around, spotting her red robes first with irritated, red-rimmed eyes.

She watches the hope in his eyes fade away as he registers that she's not wearing the Crown Prince headpiece, that she's not broad-shouldered, not taller.

"Sanna."

She looks at the black choker around his throat, knowing that in Atsumu's personal coffers lie a betrothal necklace with a carving of the sun sealed in the depths of the royal vaults, never seeing the light of day.

She doesn't even know if Kiyoomi knows of its existence.

"I'm sorry."

Kiyoomi looks at her with loss in his eyes. They were only wedded for a brief year but she knows that Kiyoomi really did love a part of Ayame, however small it was.

"What for?" He almost asks himself, "You did nothing wrong."

She approaches them, lowering herself and tucking her robes beneath her. Her red knee is next to the blue trousers of his pants, a clear space between them.

She bends down to kiss Prince Hiromu's head, smoothing the curls that are sticking up. He looks like his father down to the last eyelash. There is no trace of her childhood friend in him.

"For everything."

The Fire Lord is furious.

Atsumu stands firm with his decision, harshly snapping. One heir. Not one more. _Do not raise his voice to his wife, do not insult her or insinuate that she's suddenly barren._

Sanna sits on her knees, watching the flames sear her skin as the silhouette in front of her jumps.

She cuts them off before it could escalate to an Agni Kai.

Atsumu had suffered enough. He thinks she didn't notice the way he looked at her bump as he held her hair back, rubbing her shoulders as she emptied what little food she held down. Does he think she's blind, seeing Kiyoomi off at the docks with Prince Hiromu wrapped to his chest as he and his waterbenders leave the Fire Nation with a longing so potent she had to look away?

And she doesn't want another child to learn that their father will never love them, not as much as he could have.

Izumi will grow up not understanding why Sanna grows quiet when the Northern Water Tribes are visiting, why she'll be pulled away as Atsumu volunteers to show Kiyoomi and Hiromu around town.

Why the future Fire Lord looks at his childhood friend with a reverence of a man seeing the glory of the ocean after spending years in a desert.

"Izumi will be my only child," She tells the flames. Atsumu snaps his head at her, his crown shifting from where it's pinned to his topknot. "Your grandson is welcome to sire more children but they will not be legitimate heirs."

She does not love the Fire Lord. 

There is no loyalty for him in her heart, not like the one she waters and carries up her sleeves for her husband. Because as much as this is a loveless marriage, she has loved Atsumu since they were little, since he decided that he would try to be happy with the choices he was given.

Even if on most days he's not happy, there are glimpses. When Izumi spoke her first word he'd hugged her to his chest, hiding his wet face into the layers of her tiny robes. Once she learned to stand, he carried her on his shoulders, running around courtyards, her laughter echoing.

That, she can respect.

She doesn't cry out in pain as the floorboards she's kneeling on heats up.

Sanna sits in bed later that night, Atsumu's head in her lap. She smooths his hair, gently brushing his swollen eyes as he sleeps. 

The skin around her knees is red. Aya did her best to remove the burn marks though there will be scars.

The moon shines down through their open window. It highlights the sharpness of his cheekbones and jaws, hitting all of him.

She's almost afraid to reach further, to see if she burns in the moonlight like she's cursed. Maybe she is.

Atsumu always belonged to the sea. It's in his ease of commanding the navy, in the waterbending patterns and Northern bending style he mimics like second skin. She's seen him during sea exercises, fishing men out of the water like it's nothing, diving and holding his breath like he's a sea spirit.

She dreamt yesterday. These visions always come and go at random.

In the first one, Kiyoomi wore the Fire Lady's headpiece, dressed in robes of black and red. Instead of bone earrings, delicate rubies hung off his ears. He's holding a blue lantern in his hands, dimples showing.

In the second, Atsumu is a firebender in the tundra. He's wearing a fluffy black cloak and fits his surroundings more than she would've thought. He has a child in his arms, nothing like her Izumi, the sun catching the brilliant red nephrite around his neck.

Her throat tightens unexpectedly. She looks to the crib and Izumi's sleeping face, her straight black hair mussed as she sticks one arm out of the pink blanket.

Atsumu sleeps like a log after he cries. She extracts herself out of his hold easily, wandering to the windows.

As she leans against the rails, she wonders if Atsumu's room always faced the seas. The water is dark and powerful, brushing against the coastline. Water sprays against the rocky cliffs, booming and crashing.

It simultaneously reminds her of both her childhood friends, the push and pull, water always saving the Fire Nation during draughts and taking away lives by dragging ships down with storms and lightning.

But she's also seen the sea at its calmest, remembering their good days before matters of running a nation entered their lives and they were groomed further to take their parents' places in society.

Izumi— her precious daughter. Sanna hopes that she doesn't look anything like her to save Atsumu more pain in the future.

The next day, she sleeps in her own rooms. She pretends not to notice how relieved Atsumu is.

Days, months, years pass. 

She feigns fatigue when the Northern Water Tribe visits, looking out her bedroom window to see two figures walk circles around Princess Suzume's private gardens in the moonlight. When Izumi is seven, she became a master at re-directing her daughter's attention away from wanting to tag along with her father and Chief Kiyoomi.

She has Atsumu until the day she dies. Kiyoomi only has a few weeks of the year with him.

Izumi grows taller and sets a tree on fire. She spends her mornings with Atsumu and Master Kurosu, learning firebending basics, sparring with her father. 

When Kiyoomi visits, she watches attentively at Atsumu and Kiyoomi sparring with Hiromu at her side, plating braids in his hair as he stares in awe at the fire balls and shards of ice shooting across the courtyard.

She looks nothing like her, resembling Princess Suzume more than she does Atsumu with her tapered chin. She is tall. Give her a few years and she'll surpass Sanna in height.

But Izumi's eyes are all from her father. This brings Sanna peace.

Hiromu and Izumi are chasing each other, swinging wooden swords. Kouji and Miwa are both running away, hiding behind Koutarou. They all meet in Princess Suzume's gardens again as their parents and grandparents did.

Kiyoomi is sitting with Keiji, speaking quietly to him. The beads of black pearls that hang from his earlobes catch the sunlight. They gather every spring as soon as the sea ice melts and before summer reigns its searing grip around the Fire Nation.

In another life, the black pearls would be rubies. In another life, he would be wearing her crown.

Sanna studies him in his dark blue robes, knowing that the color looks wrong and right at the same time.

There is no love in an arranged marriage.

She doesn't lift her eyes from their children— hers, Kiyoomi's, Keiji's and Koutarou's, Osamu's and Rin's— to know that Atsumu, beside her, is looking across the garden, drawn towards the only sun that's ever existed in his life.

She is not blind to the way her husband still pines. She's had years to perfect her passive expression, to pretend all is well and brush the minister's concerns off.

Time healed wounds.

For those two, it seemed to be the opposite.

"I had a dream last night."

Just yesterday, she stood in the line of royals surrounding the Fire Lord's casket. Though she punched out as her training instilled her to do, no flames shot out of her fist.

"Of what?"

She should've born a waterbender, she thinks. She's good at adapting but her hair is black and her eyes are a warm brown. Her family bears the history of Avatar Ran but she's a nonbender.

She shuts her eyes, thinking of floating in the ocean, looking up at the endless, wide sky above her. What would it be like, to live a free life away from duties, to be able to marry and love whoever they want?

Even as she takes a breath, feeling the humidity in the air, of the sun searing into the unprotected skin of her neck, she feels like she's drowning.

Atsumu finishes fiddling with the flower crown he's made, placing it on her head, "I was laying in bed," He seems to hesitate before adding on, "Then someone said to me: the ocean was deep and the sky was blue."

She looks at the lines around his eyes.

"Hey Sanna," He laughs slightly, tilting his head back. His throat clenches and unclenches, "Have you ever woken up from a dream and cried? Or had dreams that left you missing for another life you've never lived?"

_Every night._

She smiles and wraps her hand around his, "No, never."

She seems too young to join Ayame, but she only smiles softly, stroking Izumi's hair as her daughter cries and cries and cries.

"You will be loved," Sanna holds her tightly, thinking of the summersaults Izumi did in her stomach, the kicks and bruises she's given. The tantrums and yelling matches, the times she caught her sneaking into the kitchens with Atsumu by her side, both of them holding onto bowls of mango pudding, "I'll always, always love you."

Izumi sobs into her shoulder, Crown Princess headpiece glittering. Sanna looks up.

Atsumu, standing by the foot of her bed, looks at her, eyes wet.

Her lady in waiting pulls Izumi away outside of her room, trying to console the princess that her parents want to spend their last moments together. Once the door shuts, Sanna breathes in the scent of the sea from the open windows.

Sunset. The end of the day.

"Sanna," Atsumu croaks, sitting on the same stool Izumi was in moments before.

"Sanna," She repeats, lucid enough to speak properly. Her memories are tinged with fever dreams and memories from a different life, "Written with the characters 'sparkle' and 'green.'"

She leans forward and flips his palms up, writing down their daughter's name.

"Izumi for peace, serenity."

A tear slips down Atsumu's cheeks. She leans forward, brushing it away. She wonders what Ayame will say when she greets her.

Then she writes Hiromu's name. Not in her shaky Northern script but in Fire Nation characters with the heart radical on the bottom, the way it would be translated for official invitations and functions, the way she's written all of his birthday letters throughout the years, watching him grow into Kiyoomi's little shadow.

"I'm not enough, I know but I wish—" She tearfully laughs, pressing their foreheads together as Atsumu sobs and sobs, holding onto her cold hands with both of his fingers crushing hers, trying to desperately keep her warm, "I wish that we can meet again and love whoever we want in our next life."

Atsumu hiccups. She strokes his hair, untangling the strands as she listens to him curse the spirits.

She's too young.

"I've never said it but I love you, you know that, right?"

He looks so young even though they're in their late forties. There's some grey poking out of his temples from a combination of Izumi and his ministers. Lines are appearing around his eyes and forehead. This is the extent of how she'll see him. 

She'll never see him older, with his hair white, back stooped, liver spots appearing on his hands. She'll never see Izumi marry, never see her grandchildren or see the seasons change again.

Sanna chooses to remember this: the way the moonlight is soothing on her skin, the way Atsumu is holding back his tears by sheer will, the crashing of the faraway oceans, her hand being held.

"Of course."

She falls asleep. When she wakes, Atsumu is dozing in her lap, still dressed in his formal robes. She looks at her desk across the room, knowing that her secretary will have access to her will and last letters as soon as her body is burned.

Kiyoomi smells like the sea, watching her quietly and sitting on the stool Izumi had occupied. She smiles at him.

"You came."

"Of course," His voice is scratchy, as if he hadn't spoken or used it for days. They sent him a letter using the fastest hawk. Kiyoomi is still wearing his parka.

"Please take care of him."

The early morning is quiet. She can see why Atsumu likes to wake up before dawn and tilt his head up to look at the moon. No crown, no Fire Lord robes, no responsibilities, only stolen moments where he could be himself.

Kiyoomi is weary, looking like he's lost too much. Half of his hair is smoothed back into a braid with beads and black pearls in them. 

Her voice is shaking again.

"Take care of him because I can't."

"Sanna—"

"Promise me. Please, I know I'm selfish. You're—" Her breath hitches and she laughs, "He _loves_ you. And I know you do too."

Kiyoomi looks at her blanket, expression twisting. It's a gift from him years ago— hand woven by the softest polar otter fur, elaborately woven to depict the rolling green and purples of the mysterious lights that appears at night time in the north.

He draws a hitched breath, a choked moan coming out of his mouth, "Sanna, don't say things like that."

She can't see the blankets anymore, feeling something hot and wet roll down her cheeks, "I won't be here any longer, Kiyoomi. Who's— Who's going to make sure he's fine when I pass? Who's going to remind him to drink water and take walks around the garden to give his eyes a rest? Who will be there for him when he wastes away?"

She is no one, a mere daughter not set to inherit a throne one day, not loved as much as Atsumu loves Kiyoomi.

"He loves you so, _so_ much," She croaks, stroking Atsumu's hair, "So much that he once considered throwing away his crown."

Kiyoomi places his head in his hands, drawing a sharp, stuttering breath. His shoulders shake, throat clicking as he holds onto her cold hands when she curls her fingers around them.

"Please promise me," She asks the sun.

_Please be take comfort in one another b_ _ecause Ayame and I can no longer take care of the both of you._

"...I promise."

She sees the moon fade. The palace buzzes with activity. She is tired and upset and scared. It will be easy to disappear but her heart aches for the people she's leaving.

"I'm sorry," She whispers, "For leaving next."

Kiyoomi holds her hand, humming a song Lady Akemi used to sing. Sanna remembers the lullaby, soothed into peace as she pulls a breath. It is good she thinks, that she's passing without Atsumu seeing her decline, hearing how the air rattles in her weakened lungs.

She grasps both their palms and squeezes with all her might, finding a reserve of strength that hasn't been there since she started coughing up blood and slipped into a fever state that sapped her of everything she had.

Just before she loses consciousness, she thinks there's pressure on her hands, someone pressing a kiss to her forehead, her cheek, telling her to rest.

She drifts. 

She is the sky.

* * *

* * *

Watching the two silhouettes talk in the distance, Sabrina feels a sense of peace in her as she places her bare feet on the concrete sidewalk. 

She tilts her head up, breathing in the wind. The last rays of the sun soak into her skin, the skies pink, purple, then blue, night reclaiming its place. She notices that at times, the sun would just barely be lowering as the moon rises.

That's the only time she would see the sun and moon together, always with the sky separating them.

When Atsumu comes barreling back, dragging Sakusa along and screaming about how they'll make Yale and Juilliard work between them, she jumps on her feet and cheers along with the lacrosse team.

**Author's Note:**

> the ending is connected to another fic i wrote, just let me adore you, but if you don't want to read it, everyone basically gets reborn and able to be with the people they choose
> 
> 和 izumi (peace, serenity), but also -mi for kiyoomi, for sakusa "peace of mind" kiyoomi  
> 恕 hiromu (generously), -mu for atsumu, heart radical in reference to atsumu (love)
> 
> im not sure how i feel about this piece but regardless, i hope you're still washing your hands and wearing your masks! currently writing a skts AA AU


End file.
